The hubby and I were just having the often dreaded conversation of money recently. Realizing we have too much going out, not enough coming in. Figuring out what all is going out to that is completely unnecessary like dry cleaning and a gym that gets no use compared to what is needed like Netflix, fast food and booze. So we made some executive decisions, promised to curb unnecessary spending and even talked about cutting out some excessive partying we've been doing lately. You know, making promises that we might keep for a week or two and will eventually fade away.
The reason why you should never have these types of conversations and make these promises to yourself is because inevitably karma is watching...and laughing her ass off.
I mentioned in last night's blog that my washing machine was making a funny noise. We've had ole girl for 11 years. I don't know what the life span of a washing machine is. She doesn't always act right. Leaking water occasionally or claiming to be done with all of her cycles only to find that she's full of water and the fabric softener hasn't been dispensed. We've had the repair guy come out to fix her more than once in 11 years. On his last visit he said it might not be much longer for her. Instead of trying to be gentle on her and only give her small loads, I've worked her like I always have - jamming way too much in her and crossing my fingers. Until last night. I kept tending to the noise. Hoping she was just off balance. Moving the clothes around that were stuffed inside, but knowing deep down that wasn't the sound of an off balance washing machine. When I went to unload the dryer, the washing machine sat silent. She shouldn't have been done yet. And there she was, full of water, the blue liquid looking at me sadly. I called Mike down. He's pretty handy and holds the responsibility in our relationship of fixing things. I work hard at my job of breaking things. I get better at my job every year.
He worked on her for a while, but to no avail.
Rest in peace ole girl. You've cleaned dirt, shit, puke, unidentified specimens, money, receipts, chapstick, a cricket, pens, and a toy. Along with all the clothes. You've done well and will be remembered....at least until you're out of my house and replaced with a shiny new washing machine which will hopefully be today as I'm much too precious to go to a laundry mat.
I've never even had sex on her. She's in a dirty laundry room. That's gross. There are clean rooms for that kind of activity. Okay, they aren't exactly clean but cleaner than the laundry room. Plus we're short and I don't even know how that would work out. Or is it the dryer you're supposed to have sex on? They are always doing that in TV shows, but I wonder if anyone really does it in real life. You guys can let me know if you've tried that and how it was.
Maybe I'll drown my money sorrows today by going out to lunch. That's the sensible thing to do. And I'll be damned if I'm not sensible.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
My apologies
Please forgive the gap between posts. I've been busy doing.....well everything. Working, cooking, cleaning, bathing, diaper changing, yelling, watching, laughing, drinking, disciplining, fighting, crying, worrying, regretting, lying, talking, Facebooking....you get the idea.
But hopefully you're still out there - saying and doing nothing. Kind of like we're married.
Sorry, Mike, couldn't resist.
But I'm here now. Mike's putting the oldest to bed. The youngest is in his crib talking to himself. The dryer is fluffing and the washing machine is making a noise that I should probably be tending to, but my priority right now is you. Feel special? You fucking should. I have Glee to watch.
All the shows are back on. Maybe that's what has kept me away. I tend to think I don't watch a lot of television. Mostly kid shows. Mostly Blues Clues. My one year-old is obsessed with TV. Whatever room he's in, the TV has to be on. He isn't necessarily watching it, but it has to be on. He'll grab the remote and once he's pressed a series of buttons and wrecked whatever system you have he hands it off to someone else in the room. The four year-old doesn't have to have the TV on, but if it is on he gets sucked into it very easily. I'd like to be one of those parents that limits the TV watching, but I'm too freaking tired for all of that. TV is the best babysitter I have. It's how I make dinner. It's how I switch loads of laundry. The kids still get their fair share of attention. I keep trying to ignore them, but they won't go away.
Half of the television I do watch is fairly embarrassing, but I can't help myself. Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? It feels so good. 90210? It's like a sick addiction that I can't give up. I need an intervention or something. At least the first season they gave me Kelly, Brenda and a bit of Donna, but now I have just these anorexic rich bitches that are always dressed up and wanting for nothing. At least they're whores. That always makes me feel better.
So this post isn't much. I've said mostly nothing, but just wanted to let you know that I'm here. I'm tired, grouchy and fighting a bit of a cold but I'm here and I'll try to be back tomorrow. Now the gay man that lives inside me has to come out and show his spirit fingers to Glee.
Peace be with you.
And also with you.
Bitches.
But hopefully you're still out there - saying and doing nothing. Kind of like we're married.
Sorry, Mike, couldn't resist.
But I'm here now. Mike's putting the oldest to bed. The youngest is in his crib talking to himself. The dryer is fluffing and the washing machine is making a noise that I should probably be tending to, but my priority right now is you. Feel special? You fucking should. I have Glee to watch.
All the shows are back on. Maybe that's what has kept me away. I tend to think I don't watch a lot of television. Mostly kid shows. Mostly Blues Clues. My one year-old is obsessed with TV. Whatever room he's in, the TV has to be on. He isn't necessarily watching it, but it has to be on. He'll grab the remote and once he's pressed a series of buttons and wrecked whatever system you have he hands it off to someone else in the room. The four year-old doesn't have to have the TV on, but if it is on he gets sucked into it very easily. I'd like to be one of those parents that limits the TV watching, but I'm too freaking tired for all of that. TV is the best babysitter I have. It's how I make dinner. It's how I switch loads of laundry. The kids still get their fair share of attention. I keep trying to ignore them, but they won't go away.
Half of the television I do watch is fairly embarrassing, but I can't help myself. Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? It feels so good. 90210? It's like a sick addiction that I can't give up. I need an intervention or something. At least the first season they gave me Kelly, Brenda and a bit of Donna, but now I have just these anorexic rich bitches that are always dressed up and wanting for nothing. At least they're whores. That always makes me feel better.
So this post isn't much. I've said mostly nothing, but just wanted to let you know that I'm here. I'm tired, grouchy and fighting a bit of a cold but I'm here and I'll try to be back tomorrow. Now the gay man that lives inside me has to come out and show his spirit fingers to Glee.
Peace be with you.
And also with you.
Bitches.
Monday, September 19, 2011
How old am I again?
Most of the time I live my life as if nothing bad could ever happen to me. I've lived a pretty freaking blessed life. I was born to a middle class white family. The hardest hurdle I've had in life is that I don't have a dick, thus deal with throwing rocks at that damn glass ceiling above me. If there are any white guys reading this blog (aside from my husband who is contractually obligated to - although really only reads it to see how much I throw him under the bus) just ignore that. I know you think the world is equal to us all and we all face the same hurdles in life. You were born this privileged and far be it for me to poop on your parade.
But occasionally those bad things do happen in some form or another - death of a grandparent or loss of a job. Things that at the time seem devastating and you can't believe that the world is still spinning, people are still going on with their lives. Then some time goes by and you pick yourself back up and your life keeps going, too.
Although I partake in too much Taco Bell (Damn you, Gordita and your deliciousness!) and not enough exercise (running is for pussies) for the most part I feel pretty healthy and assume that will remain the case until I'm much much older and my kids are much much older. Yet, here I am at 33 years old (just over a month till I'm 34) and I've faced my own battles with the big C, have several friends who have or are wrestling with their own forms of cancer and even one that is desperately seeking an organ donation. These aren't my 70 year old friends. (Some of my mom's friends like me.) These are women in their 30's. Until I wrote that sentence, I didn't even realize these are all women that I'm thinking of. Can't even think of a guy I know that is dealing with a health issue. Fuck, those white dudes get everything! That is such bullshit. Alright, ladies and any black dudes that are reading this - so...Derrick - go kick a white dude in the crotch today. Too extreme? Fine, maybe just park over the yellow line making it extra difficult to get into their car. They'll blame it on the fact that you're a chick or black anyway.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand - when talking to my girlfriend today about this, she wondered if there was something in our water when we were younger. Knowing us, it would have had to have been in our beer...or Mad Dog. And as we all know alcohol kills disease so based upon our lifetime consumption, we really should be a healthier population. Maybe there really is something to this hippy logic that all these cell phones really are bad for us, putting too much radiation out there. That can't be. Izzy, my iPhone, would never hurt me. She loves me.
It's probably those damn Canadians. Those bastards will do anything to wipe us out.
Well, if you are going through any health issue or any other kind of issue, I hope this little blog can be one escape for you and can give you a little laugh.
P.S. Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!
But occasionally those bad things do happen in some form or another - death of a grandparent or loss of a job. Things that at the time seem devastating and you can't believe that the world is still spinning, people are still going on with their lives. Then some time goes by and you pick yourself back up and your life keeps going, too.
Although I partake in too much Taco Bell (Damn you, Gordita and your deliciousness!) and not enough exercise (running is for pussies) for the most part I feel pretty healthy and assume that will remain the case until I'm much much older and my kids are much much older. Yet, here I am at 33 years old (just over a month till I'm 34) and I've faced my own battles with the big C, have several friends who have or are wrestling with their own forms of cancer and even one that is desperately seeking an organ donation. These aren't my 70 year old friends. (Some of my mom's friends like me.) These are women in their 30's. Until I wrote that sentence, I didn't even realize these are all women that I'm thinking of. Can't even think of a guy I know that is dealing with a health issue. Fuck, those white dudes get everything! That is such bullshit. Alright, ladies and any black dudes that are reading this - so...Derrick - go kick a white dude in the crotch today. Too extreme? Fine, maybe just park over the yellow line making it extra difficult to get into their car. They'll blame it on the fact that you're a chick or black anyway.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand - when talking to my girlfriend today about this, she wondered if there was something in our water when we were younger. Knowing us, it would have had to have been in our beer...or Mad Dog. And as we all know alcohol kills disease so based upon our lifetime consumption, we really should be a healthier population. Maybe there really is something to this hippy logic that all these cell phones really are bad for us, putting too much radiation out there. That can't be. Izzy, my iPhone, would never hurt me. She loves me.
It's probably those damn Canadians. Those bastards will do anything to wipe us out.
Well, if you are going through any health issue or any other kind of issue, I hope this little blog can be one escape for you and can give you a little laugh.
P.S. Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
As parents, we lose.
I try not to tell too many kid stories. I know they get annoying for people without kids. Hell, I have two kids and I get annoyed by them. Just about the only thing worse is baby talk. I accept it some from toddlers, but from adults I really can't stand it. But here are a couple of recent anecdotes for those that do like kid stories.
My 4-year old calls both of his grandmothers "Wa Wa". He actually used to call them "grandma" and then for some reason switched it to Wa Wa. No idea why. It sounds like baby talk so I kind of hate it but I like the fact that he came up with a name for them on his own and there's no veering him away from the name. The other day I asked him why he calls his grandmas "Wa Wa". He pondered it for a moment, then said, "Because they are old, drink coffee and have PaPas."
If we're keeping score of who wins the battles in our house, I feel fairly certain my 4-year old is ahead.
Here is just one small example of how I know this to be true.
Last night Cody (the 4 year old) wanted some yogurt to go with his dinner. Normally I buy a case of the strawberry and blueberry Yoplait yogurt, but Cody and I end up arguing over the blueberry ones as they are our favorite and the hubby gets stuck with the strawberry. So I recently bought a large carton of blueberry yogurt. Cody was thrilled to see such a large container of blueberry yogurt and wanted to dig into it with a spoon. Mike (the hubby) started to dish some of the yogurt out into a small bowl. Cody started having a meltdown claiming the small bowl was too small. Mike, certain our very tiny little boy that normally eats all of 400 calories a day, would never eat that much and made Cody a deal - if Cody would eat all the yogurt in the bowl, he would buy him a present. Cody reluctantly agreed - preferring to have the entire carton instead but greedy enough to try just about anything for a present. I think you can guess what happened - Cody ate all the yogurt in the bowl. No problem. Fail #1.
The promise of a present was actually two-fold. Mike had to run some errands and was going to take Cody with him and leave me with the 1 year old at home. As I have raised two mama's boys they have to be bribed to leave me. I'm not sure what I have done to create these mama's boys. I'm trying to undo my handy work, but have only made bigger mama's boys. I had hoped the guarnatee of a present from the store would be more than enough to secure an evening of just entertaining one little boy and not two, but instead Cody told Mike to pick something out for him and he'd wait for it until Mike got home. Fail #2.
My 4-year old calls both of his grandmothers "Wa Wa". He actually used to call them "grandma" and then for some reason switched it to Wa Wa. No idea why. It sounds like baby talk so I kind of hate it but I like the fact that he came up with a name for them on his own and there's no veering him away from the name. The other day I asked him why he calls his grandmas "Wa Wa". He pondered it for a moment, then said, "Because they are old, drink coffee and have PaPas."
If we're keeping score of who wins the battles in our house, I feel fairly certain my 4-year old is ahead.
Here is just one small example of how I know this to be true.
Last night Cody (the 4 year old) wanted some yogurt to go with his dinner. Normally I buy a case of the strawberry and blueberry Yoplait yogurt, but Cody and I end up arguing over the blueberry ones as they are our favorite and the hubby gets stuck with the strawberry. So I recently bought a large carton of blueberry yogurt. Cody was thrilled to see such a large container of blueberry yogurt and wanted to dig into it with a spoon. Mike (the hubby) started to dish some of the yogurt out into a small bowl. Cody started having a meltdown claiming the small bowl was too small. Mike, certain our very tiny little boy that normally eats all of 400 calories a day, would never eat that much and made Cody a deal - if Cody would eat all the yogurt in the bowl, he would buy him a present. Cody reluctantly agreed - preferring to have the entire carton instead but greedy enough to try just about anything for a present. I think you can guess what happened - Cody ate all the yogurt in the bowl. No problem. Fail #1.
The promise of a present was actually two-fold. Mike had to run some errands and was going to take Cody with him and leave me with the 1 year old at home. As I have raised two mama's boys they have to be bribed to leave me. I'm not sure what I have done to create these mama's boys. I'm trying to undo my handy work, but have only made bigger mama's boys. I had hoped the guarnatee of a present from the store would be more than enough to secure an evening of just entertaining one little boy and not two, but instead Cody told Mike to pick something out for him and he'd wait for it until Mike got home. Fail #2.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
My U.S. Intervention Plan
So all of that political talk yesterday generated a brilliant idea. I came up with it myself. No really, I did.
Here goes.
Step 1: Gather up all the bottom feeders. I'm not talking about the welfare mom that keeps having babies to get paid from the government. Although she might be included on this list if she is making absolutely no effort to better herself, family, community, etc. Gather up the douche bags. Like the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Gather up the embarrassments. Like the whorish 16 year old that married the dude from The Green Mile. (Body shiver - and not the good kind.) Just all the people that are not just a drain on our economy, but a drain on humanity because they are so ridiculous.
Step 2: Take that group and move them elsewhere. Like Canada or somewhere unimportant like that. Let them fend for themselves or be another country's problem. It would be inhuman to kill them and I don't want to come off like Hitler or something. This isn't a race, age or sex thing. It's a stupidity thing.
Step 3: Close the borders for at least two years. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out. I know - you'll have to vacation within the 50 states. (Yes, there are 50. I looked it up.) This will be a time of rebuilding and reconnecting. Essentially when we gotta figure our shit out and it should be easier to do without the distractions of others.
Step 4: After those 2 years, nobody can become a U.S. Citizen without a series of exams. Personality, education, psych, etc. Make sure they are cool enough to become a U.S. citizen. Think of it like a fraternity or sorority. We don't want to allow anybody back in or anybody new that can't hold their own.
Step 5: Nation is rebuilt and now we're not only powerful, we're pretty fucking awesome.
Done and done. You're welcome, Obama.
Here goes.
Step 1: Gather up all the bottom feeders. I'm not talking about the welfare mom that keeps having babies to get paid from the government. Although she might be included on this list if she is making absolutely no effort to better herself, family, community, etc. Gather up the douche bags. Like the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Gather up the embarrassments. Like the whorish 16 year old that married the dude from The Green Mile. (Body shiver - and not the good kind.) Just all the people that are not just a drain on our economy, but a drain on humanity because they are so ridiculous.
Step 2: Take that group and move them elsewhere. Like Canada or somewhere unimportant like that. Let them fend for themselves or be another country's problem. It would be inhuman to kill them and I don't want to come off like Hitler or something. This isn't a race, age or sex thing. It's a stupidity thing.
Step 3: Close the borders for at least two years. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out. I know - you'll have to vacation within the 50 states. (Yes, there are 50. I looked it up.) This will be a time of rebuilding and reconnecting. Essentially when we gotta figure our shit out and it should be easier to do without the distractions of others.
Step 4: After those 2 years, nobody can become a U.S. Citizen without a series of exams. Personality, education, psych, etc. Make sure they are cool enough to become a U.S. citizen. Think of it like a fraternity or sorority. We don't want to allow anybody back in or anybody new that can't hold their own.
Step 5: Nation is rebuilt and now we're not only powerful, we're pretty fucking awesome.
Done and done. You're welcome, Obama.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
4th Gear Politics
Some have wanted me to talk politics on my blog. I assume they think I will bash Sarah Palin or Sarah Palin 2.0 - Michele Bachmann. This just isn't the case, but it might happen soon as the morning show I listen to every morning - Kidd Kraddick in the Morning - was pulled off my hometown station and I was left with NPR this morning.
I do my best to give my brain a rest during its off hours - commute to and from work, after kids go to bed....now. And my radio morning show was perfect. Entertaining without really requiring me to think. At least not about anything too real. Plus the show was family friendly if I had the kids in the car with me (My 4 year old's favorite song however is Pink's So What - could be worse I suppose.) and do good things for other people including taking a group of severely sick kids to Disney World every year with medical staff in tow.
Not anymore. Now this blend of personalities has been replaced with a deejay. I can't even say it is being replaced with a local morning show. Nope, just someone letting me know what song was played last and what will be played next. If I wanted to listen to music I'd turn on a CD. And yes, I realize I'm about the last person on the planet still listening to the radio. I'm in advertising. I record my television and fast forward through commercials. I have to do something to support my industry! Plus, I don't care enough to take my car in and pay money for Sirius or Satellite to be installed and since nobody has done that for me, here I am.
But this morning I took the muff dive into NPR and was faced with a summary of the Republican debate from last night. I work with a Tea Partier, but I do my best to not talk politics with him or else we'll end up talking gay marriage and the words I shudder to hear, "Next you'll be able to marry your dog." will come out of his mouth and I can't control what will happen after that. And I like tea! Not hot tea though. Not a fan of hot drinks in general. I'm a delicate flower that way. I have a girlfriend that drinks hot water during the winter to keep warm. Yes, I agree, that's fucked up.
I love the term Grand Old Party. It makes me feel nostalgic and wish I used the word "grand" as an adjective more often.
"Dahhhling, that was just grand of you to adopt those Himalayan mountain babies before they had one more ounce of Mr. Dew."
I didn't watch the debate last night - Hello, Real Housewives of Orange County was on - and I haven't been following it at all so most of what I know I learned from the :20 clip on NPR this morning and most of that was airing the crowd yelling boo. So obviously they all must be as excited as I am about Halloween coming soon.
So I'll wait to give you my thoughts on the candidates, once I've listened to some more NPR. By election day I should have a mullet, closet full of flannel and have ditched every purse in my closet. So you know I'll be informed.
I wasn't an Obama supporter before he became the Democratic Candidate. I was all about my girl, Hillary. Yes, that's right. Shun me all you want. I love her. I love her daughter. Hell, I even love that silly ass, Bill. I can't help myself. I just find him charming. Now, I'm not going to share cigars with him or anything. Let's not take it to that place. So I was very disappointed when Hillary didn't win the nomination. I wanted to like Obama. And mostly he won me over because I couldn't deal with Palin. Lesser of two evils, I suppose? Anyone who uses the term Anti Abortion as if this is the stance you make, makes me angry. You know because my Pro Choice friends and I are sitting around getting pregnant just so we can get an abortion since we must then be Pro Abortion. Woot Woot!!! Then we have abortion parties. It's so much fun. Maybe I'll send you guys an e-vite next time we have one. I wonder when my "Kill the Babies" t-shirt will be in?
And tell me, who doesn't want to have a drink with Biden? He seems like a ton of fun. And his wife is sassy. You know I'm fond of that. He totally drinks 7 and 7's (which is fine since he is old).
Prior to Obama, I supported Bush. (Guess I must have been listening to NPR back in those days.) Prior to that, Clinton - although I'm not sure I voted in that election so guess it doesn't matter. Look, I was in college and my major worries were about which bar we were going to that night and how I was going to turn my 4 page paper into a 7 page paper.
I loved me some Bush Senior and some Ronald Reagan even though I was too young to vote back then.
I'm registered a Republican. Financially, I am supported with a Republican lifestyle - husband has a family-owned business, I work for a small business, I'm white and middle class, blah blah blah. But then there are some of the other lifestyle ideals that I have that are very liberal. The whole Pro Choice/Gay Marriage thing to begin with, helping our fellow man, and nonsense like that.
And although I feel like a woman should have her right to choose, I'd also like to sterilize some people so I'm in a constant battle with myself over the issues. Mostly, I'm just a hypocrite and the only thing you can rely on is that my opinion will change constantly. However, whatever opinion I have is right.
If you're getting ready to send me hate mail, maybe you should focus that energy instead on getting my morning show back on the air!
With Non Partisan Love,
Molly
I do my best to give my brain a rest during its off hours - commute to and from work, after kids go to bed....now. And my radio morning show was perfect. Entertaining without really requiring me to think. At least not about anything too real. Plus the show was family friendly if I had the kids in the car with me (My 4 year old's favorite song however is Pink's So What - could be worse I suppose.) and do good things for other people including taking a group of severely sick kids to Disney World every year with medical staff in tow.
Not anymore. Now this blend of personalities has been replaced with a deejay. I can't even say it is being replaced with a local morning show. Nope, just someone letting me know what song was played last and what will be played next. If I wanted to listen to music I'd turn on a CD. And yes, I realize I'm about the last person on the planet still listening to the radio. I'm in advertising. I record my television and fast forward through commercials. I have to do something to support my industry! Plus, I don't care enough to take my car in and pay money for Sirius or Satellite to be installed and since nobody has done that for me, here I am.
But this morning I took the muff dive into NPR and was faced with a summary of the Republican debate from last night. I work with a Tea Partier, but I do my best to not talk politics with him or else we'll end up talking gay marriage and the words I shudder to hear, "Next you'll be able to marry your dog." will come out of his mouth and I can't control what will happen after that. And I like tea! Not hot tea though. Not a fan of hot drinks in general. I'm a delicate flower that way. I have a girlfriend that drinks hot water during the winter to keep warm. Yes, I agree, that's fucked up.
I love the term Grand Old Party. It makes me feel nostalgic and wish I used the word "grand" as an adjective more often.
"Dahhhling, that was just grand of you to adopt those Himalayan mountain babies before they had one more ounce of Mr. Dew."
I didn't watch the debate last night - Hello, Real Housewives of Orange County was on - and I haven't been following it at all so most of what I know I learned from the :20 clip on NPR this morning and most of that was airing the crowd yelling boo. So obviously they all must be as excited as I am about Halloween coming soon.
So I'll wait to give you my thoughts on the candidates, once I've listened to some more NPR. By election day I should have a mullet, closet full of flannel and have ditched every purse in my closet. So you know I'll be informed.
I wasn't an Obama supporter before he became the Democratic Candidate. I was all about my girl, Hillary. Yes, that's right. Shun me all you want. I love her. I love her daughter. Hell, I even love that silly ass, Bill. I can't help myself. I just find him charming. Now, I'm not going to share cigars with him or anything. Let's not take it to that place. So I was very disappointed when Hillary didn't win the nomination. I wanted to like Obama. And mostly he won me over because I couldn't deal with Palin. Lesser of two evils, I suppose? Anyone who uses the term Anti Abortion as if this is the stance you make, makes me angry. You know because my Pro Choice friends and I are sitting around getting pregnant just so we can get an abortion since we must then be Pro Abortion. Woot Woot!!! Then we have abortion parties. It's so much fun. Maybe I'll send you guys an e-vite next time we have one. I wonder when my "Kill the Babies" t-shirt will be in?
And tell me, who doesn't want to have a drink with Biden? He seems like a ton of fun. And his wife is sassy. You know I'm fond of that. He totally drinks 7 and 7's (which is fine since he is old).
Prior to Obama, I supported Bush. (Guess I must have been listening to NPR back in those days.) Prior to that, Clinton - although I'm not sure I voted in that election so guess it doesn't matter. Look, I was in college and my major worries were about which bar we were going to that night and how I was going to turn my 4 page paper into a 7 page paper.
I loved me some Bush Senior and some Ronald Reagan even though I was too young to vote back then.
I'm registered a Republican. Financially, I am supported with a Republican lifestyle - husband has a family-owned business, I work for a small business, I'm white and middle class, blah blah blah. But then there are some of the other lifestyle ideals that I have that are very liberal. The whole Pro Choice/Gay Marriage thing to begin with, helping our fellow man, and nonsense like that.
And although I feel like a woman should have her right to choose, I'd also like to sterilize some people so I'm in a constant battle with myself over the issues. Mostly, I'm just a hypocrite and the only thing you can rely on is that my opinion will change constantly. However, whatever opinion I have is right.
If you're getting ready to send me hate mail, maybe you should focus that energy instead on getting my morning show back on the air!
With Non Partisan Love,
Molly
Thursday, September 8, 2011
521
521 - That's how many Facebook friends I have. Excessive? Probably, but I'm a Facebook whore so it will probably get bigger....or maybe smaller after this blog. Of course I'd say only a 1/3 of that actually post on a regular basis. Then there's the 1/3 that never post, but are on there stalking what everyone else is doing. Then there's the 1/3 that haven't looked at Facebook for a long time. I've been thinking of writing this blog for some time, but was worried I would lose half of my Facebook friends. But the hell with it...we'll see what happens to "521" in 24 hours or so.
I just joined Facebook 2-3 years ago. Claimed I would never do it. But I'm in advertising and social media is huge so I joined out of force to stay current with the trend and figure out how I could apply it to clients and get paid for it. It didn't take long before I was hooked. Now it's my meth and I can't get enough. You know how it is, don't you? I feel confident most of my blog followers are as addicted to Facebook as I am.
Yet we're all annoyed. We all have our own etiquette books for Facebook. Since mine is the only one that matters, I'll publicize mine.
So to those that drop me as a Facebook friend, please know - although I'm annoyed by you, like my bad habit, I crave you, too. It's a sickness. I'm working on it. Well, not really...
(These are in no particular order.)
1. Vague statements of confrontation - Look, if you want to call someone out about something just do it. Don't post some vague message that the rest of us don't get but are now curious as to what is going on. Either fill us all in or don't put it on there.
2. Quotes - Why? Do you have a quote of the day calendar? Are you actually spending time looking these up each day, trying to figure out which one to post? How about you use your own words instead of someone else's. If I wanted to hear from Albert Einstein I'd friend him on Facebook.
3. LOL, LMAO, etc. etc. - I'm probably alone on this, but I don't like all the abbreviations. This isn't Twitter. You have enough characters to spell it all out. Don't make me look up some abbreviation to figure out what the hell it means.
4. Facebook should not replace texting - if you have something to say to someone you talk to regularly - like your husband, close friends, etc. etc. then text them. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" should be something you text your spouse, not post on Facebook. Or at the very least is a private message.
5. Detailed list - I don't care that you picked Johnny up from school, took him and Cindy to soccer practice then off to piano lessons followed by homework time. It's one thing if this was a post every once in a while, but when it is all you post, you make me sad. Do you really have nothing else to say? Are you trying to prove something?
6. Gym Rat - stop making me feel bad about myself because you just ran 10 miles in 4 minutes. Yes, I'll look through your photos when you post them of your latest Marathon...but I'll still be cursing you while I do it.
7. Love Bugs - Beyond saying happy anniversary or happy birthday, I don't really want to see all the "I love you." "I love you more" bullshit. Nobody loves their spouse that much in a public manner. Makes me want to start an affair rumor about one of you. Facebook is a place to ridicule and mock. That's what makes us happy.
8. Spoiler - You can't post the winner of some show or too much detail about something on Facebook while you're watching it live on Facebook. Give the rest of us time to watch it, too. As an additional comment under a post is fine.
9. Teenage angst - Yes, I have some teenage Facebook friends. It's not pedophilia if they are family. And please know I love all of you, but all the "will I find the man of my dreams" makes me want to sterilize you. You're 15 (or some young age). Stop it. Not that you will listen to me, just as I didn't listen to my elders when I was that age.
10. Hooked on phonics - I'm not going to claim that I never make a typo, but some of you really need to go back to elementary school. Are you abbreviating? Nope, you just can't spell. Quit ignoring your computer or Iphone! It's trying to help you. Please understand how stupid it makes you look. And I know you're not all really that stupid. OK, some of you might be.
The only reason all the Farmville bullshit didn't make the list is because even Facebook was annoyed by it and allows us to block it out. Thank you, Facebook.
I just joined Facebook 2-3 years ago. Claimed I would never do it. But I'm in advertising and social media is huge so I joined out of force to stay current with the trend and figure out how I could apply it to clients and get paid for it. It didn't take long before I was hooked. Now it's my meth and I can't get enough. You know how it is, don't you? I feel confident most of my blog followers are as addicted to Facebook as I am.
Yet we're all annoyed. We all have our own etiquette books for Facebook. Since mine is the only one that matters, I'll publicize mine.
So to those that drop me as a Facebook friend, please know - although I'm annoyed by you, like my bad habit, I crave you, too. It's a sickness. I'm working on it. Well, not really...
(These are in no particular order.)
1. Vague statements of confrontation - Look, if you want to call someone out about something just do it. Don't post some vague message that the rest of us don't get but are now curious as to what is going on. Either fill us all in or don't put it on there.
2. Quotes - Why? Do you have a quote of the day calendar? Are you actually spending time looking these up each day, trying to figure out which one to post? How about you use your own words instead of someone else's. If I wanted to hear from Albert Einstein I'd friend him on Facebook.
3. LOL, LMAO, etc. etc. - I'm probably alone on this, but I don't like all the abbreviations. This isn't Twitter. You have enough characters to spell it all out. Don't make me look up some abbreviation to figure out what the hell it means.
4. Facebook should not replace texting - if you have something to say to someone you talk to regularly - like your husband, close friends, etc. etc. then text them. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" should be something you text your spouse, not post on Facebook. Or at the very least is a private message.
5. Detailed list - I don't care that you picked Johnny up from school, took him and Cindy to soccer practice then off to piano lessons followed by homework time. It's one thing if this was a post every once in a while, but when it is all you post, you make me sad. Do you really have nothing else to say? Are you trying to prove something?
6. Gym Rat - stop making me feel bad about myself because you just ran 10 miles in 4 minutes. Yes, I'll look through your photos when you post them of your latest Marathon...but I'll still be cursing you while I do it.
7. Love Bugs - Beyond saying happy anniversary or happy birthday, I don't really want to see all the "I love you." "I love you more" bullshit. Nobody loves their spouse that much in a public manner. Makes me want to start an affair rumor about one of you. Facebook is a place to ridicule and mock. That's what makes us happy.
8. Spoiler - You can't post the winner of some show or too much detail about something on Facebook while you're watching it live on Facebook. Give the rest of us time to watch it, too. As an additional comment under a post is fine.
9. Teenage angst - Yes, I have some teenage Facebook friends. It's not pedophilia if they are family. And please know I love all of you, but all the "will I find the man of my dreams" makes me want to sterilize you. You're 15 (or some young age). Stop it. Not that you will listen to me, just as I didn't listen to my elders when I was that age.
10. Hooked on phonics - I'm not going to claim that I never make a typo, but some of you really need to go back to elementary school. Are you abbreviating? Nope, you just can't spell. Quit ignoring your computer or Iphone! It's trying to help you. Please understand how stupid it makes you look. And I know you're not all really that stupid. OK, some of you might be.
The only reason all the Farmville bullshit didn't make the list is because even Facebook was annoyed by it and allows us to block it out. Thank you, Facebook.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Ahhhh shit. I'm talking race.
Yesterday someone told me that "black people don't like mayonnaise." I had never heard this before in my life and at first thought he was joking...but I didn't get the punch line. Upon further evaluation, I discovered he was in fact serious. From his experience he stood by this claim.
A few months ago someone made a declaration that "black people don't like gays." I had also never heard this little supposed factoid and the woman backed it up by e-mailing me links that supported this stereotype.
Another interesting tidbit I've learned recently is that if you wear a ring on each ring finger this means you are bi-sexual. This might be true because I would totally have sexy times with Angelina Jolie.
So, I'm not sure if I'm just color blind or ignorant because I had never heard of these stereotypes before. I'm not going to pretend to have a very ethnically diverse group of friends or upbringing. Maybe if I did, I would firmly believe these stereotypes and be sharing this wisdom with others.
So, all of this has gotten me thinking about my own stereotypes. I hate to even call them that because I find it to be just statistical facts since I'm always right. So here's a few for your reading pleasure and feel free to leave a comment with your own stereotypes.
1. NPR is run and listened to by lesbians. Not that there's anything wrong with that. So if you listen to NPR regularly, you might want to think about how you feel about muff diving. I'm guessing you like it. This belief comes from a meeting I attended many years ago where a woman from NPR spoke and she was definitely from Lesbia and she had a co-worker with her that was also from the same village.
2. Lesbians must date all the lesbians within their social group. I don't know if they earn bonus points for this or what. I like to believe there is a BINGO board filled with their friends' names and they are all just trying to fill their board.
3. Thin, beautiful women are evil. No explanation needed.
4. 7 and 7's is an old man drink. (So stop drinking it, Mike!) You must be at least 50 years old to drink this regularly. Vodka tonics are for ladies. Gin and tonics are for men. Whiskey really does put hair on your chest.
5. Canadians are a lesser people.
A few months ago someone made a declaration that "black people don't like gays." I had also never heard this little supposed factoid and the woman backed it up by e-mailing me links that supported this stereotype.
Another interesting tidbit I've learned recently is that if you wear a ring on each ring finger this means you are bi-sexual. This might be true because I would totally have sexy times with Angelina Jolie.
So, I'm not sure if I'm just color blind or ignorant because I had never heard of these stereotypes before. I'm not going to pretend to have a very ethnically diverse group of friends or upbringing. Maybe if I did, I would firmly believe these stereotypes and be sharing this wisdom with others.
So, all of this has gotten me thinking about my own stereotypes. I hate to even call them that because I find it to be just statistical facts since I'm always right. So here's a few for your reading pleasure and feel free to leave a comment with your own stereotypes.
1. NPR is run and listened to by lesbians. Not that there's anything wrong with that. So if you listen to NPR regularly, you might want to think about how you feel about muff diving. I'm guessing you like it. This belief comes from a meeting I attended many years ago where a woman from NPR spoke and she was definitely from Lesbia and she had a co-worker with her that was also from the same village.
2. Lesbians must date all the lesbians within their social group. I don't know if they earn bonus points for this or what. I like to believe there is a BINGO board filled with their friends' names and they are all just trying to fill their board.
3. Thin, beautiful women are evil. No explanation needed.
4. 7 and 7's is an old man drink. (So stop drinking it, Mike!) You must be at least 50 years old to drink this regularly. Vodka tonics are for ladies. Gin and tonics are for men. Whiskey really does put hair on your chest.
5. Canadians are a lesser people.
Monday, September 5, 2011
How I met your father
Once upon a time there was a beautiful young 18-year old woman named Molly with a flat stomach and perky breasts. (Quit with the eye rolling. This is my story and I'll tell it however the fuck I want.) And there was a young 19-year old man named Mike. How Mike and Molly initially met doesn't matter since neither one of them remember, but it was probably at a fraternity party after a dozen warm beers. Regardless they had been acquaintances and shared many mutual friends for about a year when they ran into each other one day outside of the University bookstore. One had a lighter and the other one needed one and there they stood, had a smoke and chatted for a bit. And it was in that brief 10 minute encounter that they took a look at each other with renewed (or sober) eyes.
Soon after, they started dating and continued dating through the rest of college, graduation, moving home, first jobs, and house hunting for a home of their own. Five years had gone by and Molly was beginning to wonder if common law marriage would just come into effect or if Mike would ever pop the question. Molly's parents had even offered to pay for an elopement to Vegas, but Mike always deferred to "one day, one day". Molly thought "one day" was never going to happen and started to grow impatient although Mike doesn't have any recollection of Molly's impatience. Eventually Molly assumed "one day" would never happen, but was happy with a life with Mike regardless. Plus she felt she had put too much time into shaping this one man to start over.
Then one unassuming Friday evening Mike and Molly decided to go to dinner in the town where they went to college. It was a very cold evening and after dinner Mike said he needed to stop by an ATM machine so he could get gas before they headed back home. Molly ignored Mike as she was used to doing and was trying to pay attention to some news on the radio. Mike pulled into the University bookstore parking lot where he knew an ATM machine was. However, the ATM machine was on the opposite side of the building and Molly doesn't like to sit in a car by herself as she is scared she will get kidnapped. (Yes, kidnapped. I just know someone is going to snatch me.) So Mike and Molly both walked around the building toward the ATM machine. Molly was very annoyed as it was very cold and she was very interested in hearing more of the news on the radio and could he seriously not fill up or get cash before picking her up that evening?
Molly was ahead of Mike as Mike was lolly gagging behind as Molly knew him to do often. Then Mike stooped down to tie his shoe. Molly looked through the bookstore window at a display trying not to scream at Mike although she was growing increasingly annoyed at his slowness and him in general. Then Mike said he had something for Molly. Mike was known to occasionally get Molly trinkets at gas stations during his many travels around the state. So Molly held out her hand expecting to have him set a snow globe or some such treasure in her hand. That is when Mike asked Molly to be his wife.
And Molly responded, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
And they've lived mostly happy, but still annoyed by each other occasionally, ever after.
Soon after, they started dating and continued dating through the rest of college, graduation, moving home, first jobs, and house hunting for a home of their own. Five years had gone by and Molly was beginning to wonder if common law marriage would just come into effect or if Mike would ever pop the question. Molly's parents had even offered to pay for an elopement to Vegas, but Mike always deferred to "one day, one day". Molly thought "one day" was never going to happen and started to grow impatient although Mike doesn't have any recollection of Molly's impatience. Eventually Molly assumed "one day" would never happen, but was happy with a life with Mike regardless. Plus she felt she had put too much time into shaping this one man to start over.
Then one unassuming Friday evening Mike and Molly decided to go to dinner in the town where they went to college. It was a very cold evening and after dinner Mike said he needed to stop by an ATM machine so he could get gas before they headed back home. Molly ignored Mike as she was used to doing and was trying to pay attention to some news on the radio. Mike pulled into the University bookstore parking lot where he knew an ATM machine was. However, the ATM machine was on the opposite side of the building and Molly doesn't like to sit in a car by herself as she is scared she will get kidnapped. (Yes, kidnapped. I just know someone is going to snatch me.) So Mike and Molly both walked around the building toward the ATM machine. Molly was very annoyed as it was very cold and she was very interested in hearing more of the news on the radio and could he seriously not fill up or get cash before picking her up that evening?
Molly was ahead of Mike as Mike was lolly gagging behind as Molly knew him to do often. Then Mike stooped down to tie his shoe. Molly looked through the bookstore window at a display trying not to scream at Mike although she was growing increasingly annoyed at his slowness and him in general. Then Mike said he had something for Molly. Mike was known to occasionally get Molly trinkets at gas stations during his many travels around the state. So Molly held out her hand expecting to have him set a snow globe or some such treasure in her hand. That is when Mike asked Molly to be his wife.
And Molly responded, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
And they've lived mostly happy, but still annoyed by each other occasionally, ever after.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Labor Day
I sit here on this eve of Labor Day trying to motivate myself to do something more exciting than going to sleep before 10PM. I'm not sure what the appropriate celebration is for those that labor or have labored or whatever the hell this holiday is about. I've spent most of my weekend nursing a one year old with a bad cold, cheering on the four year old at his soccer game, catching up on laundry, and visiting with family. Tomorrow I will spend at least half of the day cleaning the house. Kind of seems more appropriate on Labor Day to not labor at all, but I'm at the point where you need to wear flip flops to take a shower because the bathroom is so gross. I contemplated just burning the house down and starting over. It would definitely be easier, but it wouldn't be quicker. Plus, I'm not sure how to cover up arson. Murder - yes. Arson - no.
So for those that labor and especially for those ladies that are in labor - Happy Labor Day!
So for those that labor and especially for those ladies that are in labor - Happy Labor Day!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Spoiler Alert
I know you've been up all night wondering what decision I made last night. Which little voice did I listen to? The one telling me to stay in, go to bed early or the one telling me to party and stay up late? Well, I listened to both. I stayed in, watched a movie, had cocktails with a girlfriend, and stayed up too late. Gordon's Vodka is the devil by the way. What kind of ethanol is in it to make you feel so terrible in the morning. I have to stick with the good stuff. With age comes wisdom.
So, the movie. The Kids Are Alright. I don't know where to begin. A lesbian can have sex with a dude? First a nun lies to me and now lesbians can cheat on other lesbians with guys? I don't understand. This goes against nature....or nurture...or whatever it is you believe in. But they are still lesbians? And lesbians watch gay male porn? It's a world gone mad, I tell you.
I really don't know what to believe anymore.
New hardcore rap is called horrorcore, but they dress like black hipsters. Blipsters as a friend called it recently. (I love this term.) I'm not sad to see the saggy pants leave the scene, but I'm not sure I like the idea of all men - gay or straight - wearing skinny jeans either. Like I need to feel like thunder thighs next to a bunch of guys. I call bullshit.
So a nun, a lesbian and a blipster walk into a bar. I hope they all drink Gordon's.
So, the movie. The Kids Are Alright. I don't know where to begin. A lesbian can have sex with a dude? First a nun lies to me and now lesbians can cheat on other lesbians with guys? I don't understand. This goes against nature....or nurture...or whatever it is you believe in. But they are still lesbians? And lesbians watch gay male porn? It's a world gone mad, I tell you.
I really don't know what to believe anymore.
New hardcore rap is called horrorcore, but they dress like black hipsters. Blipsters as a friend called it recently. (I love this term.) I'm not sad to see the saggy pants leave the scene, but I'm not sure I like the idea of all men - gay or straight - wearing skinny jeans either. Like I need to feel like thunder thighs next to a bunch of guys. I call bullshit.
So a nun, a lesbian and a blipster walk into a bar. I hope they all drink Gordon's.
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